When I was a college freshman, this older girl in my musical theater troupe (Yeah, I said it. Musical theater TROUPE. I was a CATS-singing bad ass. But I've done my time for the crime, and I can assure you: it will never happen again. Particularly not the part in which I prance about wearing a sleek golden unitard), anyway, this girl in my musical theater troupe described me (behind my back of course) as "so surly." And I was all .... who meeeeeeeeeeee? when secretly I was pleased because I had been cultivating my inner sourpuss, brushing his bristly little coat, feeding him sourpuss treats, and telling him he was a beautiful kitty, ever since I arrived on campus. Back then, there was no touchy, no feely, no group hugs, no happy happy and no joy joy in Amandaland. Period. Not on my watch.So fastforward 11 years, and I'm at work discussing a trade show I do not especially wish to attend next fall. And my coworker asks me why I do not wish to attend. And I blurt, "Because I don't like people." And this coworker says, "What? Yes you do." And I say, "No I don't." But, there's no conviction in my voice! None whatsoever. It's pathetic. The words had just fallen out of my mouth like a little hairball from my past. The truth is, I actually sort of like people. Not all people. But considerably more than several. And I'm all, "This is nuts! When did this happen? How long have I been this way? Somebody slap me!"Today, I'm like Sally Field giving an inverted Oscar Speech: "I LIKE YOU! I REALLY LIKE YOU!"I'm just kidding. It's not that bad. But, people, you're all right.